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Minor Poems of Michael Drayton by Michael Drayton
page 51 of 375 (13%)
Disdayne, Ice to my life, is to my soule a fire:
With teares, sighes, and disdaine, this contrary I proue.
Quenchles desire makes hope burne, dryes my teares,
Loue heats my hart, my hart-heat my sighes warmeth;
With my soules fire my life disdaine out-weares,
Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, hart, and life charmeth.
My hope becomes a friend to my desire,
My hart imbraceth Loue, Loue doth imbrace my hart;
My life a Phoenix is in my soules fire,
From thence (they vow) they neuer will depart.
Desire, my loue, my soule, my hope, my hart, my life,
With teares, sighes, and disdaine, shall haue immortal strife.


Amour 33

Whilst thus mine eyes doe surfet with delight,
My wofull hart, imprisond in my breast,
Wishing to be trans-formd into my sight,
To looke on her by whom mine eyes are blest;
But whilst mine eyes thus greedily doe gaze,
Behold! their obiects ouer-soone depart,
And treading in this neuer-ending maze,
Wish now to be trans-formd into my hart:
My hart, surcharg'd with thoughts, sighes in abundance raise,
My eyes, made dim with lookes, poure down a flood of tears;
And whilst my hart and eye enuy each others praise,
My dying lookes and thoughts are peiz'd in equall feares:
And thus, whilst sighes and teares together doe contende,
Each one of these doth ayde vnto the other lende.
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